


Maybe you won't scare me, maybe you would care

by dandyzeni (chatnchew)



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Enemies to Lovers, Hopeful Ending, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Pining, Rivals to Lovers, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Wordcount: Under 10.000, somewhat lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29774418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chatnchew/pseuds/dandyzeni
Summary: There's a shift in Lupin's dynamic with Zenigata, and he's determined to capitalize it in the only way he knows how.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Zenigata Kouichi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	Maybe you won't scare me, maybe you would care

**Author's Note:**

> I'd been working on this for a while and finally managed to finish it up. The title of this fic is taken from the lyrics of the song "Sticky" by Ravyn Lenae, which opens up [my playlist for these two](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Svhi9XENvJZN1V8MJnCJR?si=de8f67dd59c447c8).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Lupin wasn’t sure what had driven him to kiss Zenigata. It was a spur of the moment impulse that had been derived from a well of many things, that he knew. Raw emotion, white hot adrenaline, latent desire unwound by the danger they were in. The building had just started caving around them (a last ditch effort to kill them by the fucker Zenigata had clipped with his Colt to save Lupin’s life) and escaping was imperative. But instead of thinking about fleeing to safety, he pulled him into a kiss. 

He’d kissed Zenigata before, but not like this. Never like this. It had always been something done to be cheeky, a move ripped right from Looney Tunes, always something to make his skin turn to gooseflesh and prickle with cold sweat. But this time, as the walls crumbled around them, Lupin cupped the sides of Zenigata’s face scruffy with stubble and kissed him slowly, sweetly, and for a moment all the world was only him. 

At what point they had managed to flee, Lupin wasn’t sure. He just felt their bodies move to separate and they were running, ducking, leaping… Then they were out. The hubris of the bastard they’d teamed up to take down leading to no one’s demise but his own. 

By some miracle, he and the gang had made out not only with their lives but some of the spoils of their misadventure. A celebration was obviously in order, so the four of them had headed out for karaoke and drinks. It had been Lupin’s suggestion, but… 

All he could think about the entire time was how soft the inspector’s lips had been against his own, how the bulk of him went slack at his touch, and how he could smell the cheap cologne he used stuck to the starched collar of his shirt. 

Something kept him from sneaking out of the room, though. Obligation to spend time with his friends was what he told himself for a while. But when they split up to take time to themselves and all Lupin was left to wrestle with was the yawning pit of his loneliness, he knew there was a far more shameful thing that had kept him there that night. _Cowardice_. 

He slipped into an odd job in Hong Kong, working as a window cleaner to gather intel among the petty thieves of the city. The task was grueling. To thrust himself into conversation, to take the time to probe for information that would point him to the next big heist was nigh impossible because all he could think about was having to face the inspector again as a result. Lupin supposed when that time drew closer the burning shame founded in his lack of action would’ve, at the very least, faded. But working toward that future was hard when his embarrassment was standing in the way at every turn. 

It was by some cruel coincidence that he spotted Zenigata in town. The inspector’s stalwart figure was still so obvious even from his perch towering several stories above the street. Why he was in Hong Kong, exactly, Lupin didn’t know. He didn’t care. 

This was perfect. There was no heist to dance around, no Jigen or Goemon (or even a jealous Fujiko) to hold him back from acting. He could surmount the challenge of his feelings here and now with no other obstacles. 

Tracking down Zenigata’s hotel was easy. Even in spite of the challenges, Lupin had managed to tap into a reliable network of information; he supplied the assumptions he had ( _cheap, cheap, cheap_ ) and they did the rest. Under the cover of night and blaring neon lights, he made his way to the salacious corner of the city the inspector had been sequestered to. He had to laugh at the given circumstances. It was as if Zenigata was keen to his intentions, that he had found lodging in a place like this to add a layer of sleazy appeal to their tryst. 

Supposing there _was_ a tryst. If all went well. 

Lupin climbed up the fire escape with ease, his slim figure scaling the hotel building like he was built solely to climb. Zenigata’s room was on the top floor, and each time he passed one Lupin felt his excitement grow. He paused at the window to get a good look inside before he made any further moves. 

On the bed Zenigata sat, one hand tangled up in a phone cord. Lupin held his breath; how long had this conversation been going on? How long would it continue? But his worries were instantly abated when the inspector laid the receiver back in its handle. With a grin, he slid the windowsill up, facing no resistance, and slithered inside like a shadow. 

He knew all the stealth in the world couldn’t cloak his presence for very long, if at all. They both had a sixth sense; they could feel each other’s presence for miles. Zenigata’s hunched posture unfurled and he turned around, eyes narrowing in suspicion, before his gaze landed on Lupin’s figure crouched against his hotel wall. 

They stood to their feet in unison: Zenigata with his limbs akimbo, surprise lighting him like a fuse, and Lupin with his hands stuffed into his pockets, his coolness all too evident. 

“Hiya, Pops.” He grinned. He could see the energy building in the inspector. That delightful, wonderful, radiant explosion of righteous anger was imminent. He was ready for the fireworks. 

They never came. Zenigata deflated slowly, his shock giving way to emotions so blasé Lupin’s smile was almost wiped from his face. 

“Why are you here?” Confusion had Zenigata’s expression pinched, his brows ready to furrow and his lips ready to curl in dull anger at a moment’s notice. 

Lupin scoffed quietly and took one languid step closer, his attention turning to the lamp standing on the nightstand nearest him. An idle hand was pulled from one of his pockets to trace the rim of the shade. 

“Why am I here? Why do you _think_ I’m here?” The question was painfully rhetorical, but Lupin knew he didn’t have to spell things out any further. The man was not _just_ a detective– he was one of the best. He already knew the answer to that question long before it’d left the thief’s lips. 

Or so Lupin would have thought. When he glanced up from his absent ministrations there was a smile on Zenigata’s face. It was devoid of joy, however. Incredulous was more the word. The inspector snorted and ran a frenetic hand through his hair. 

“I… I don’t _know_. What, to humiliate me? Why _else_ would you be here?” Zenigata snorted. “You couldn’t have possibly crawled all this way for… _That_.”

Lupin felt his cheeks burn and was grateful for the low light, hoping that it wasn’t obvious. 

“Oh, Pops,” Lupin huffed, turning his nose up and pressing a hand to his chest, “you _wound_ me. I’d like for you to think I’d know my opponents better than that. So I would’ve assumed you’d know I was being genuine.” 

Zenigata was silent, his expression fading away into a look of dim confusion. “Stop putting on airs, Lupin. Either be honest or get out. I don’t have time for this tonight, I… I’d really like to get some rest.” He pressed both of his hands to his face and heaved a sigh. 

Lupin felt his mouth go dry. _Fuck_. He’d really weaseled himself into a cry wolf situation here, hadn’t he? Granted, he’d never thought he’d be trying to seduce the inspector– for the sole joy of being with him, no ulterior motive in sight –but neither did the boy ever expect to feel the sharp embrace of a wolf’s maw. The soft flesh of his throat felt ever tender now as he roughly swallowed little more than air. 

He had to be persistent. Their lives were a mess of red string, bound so tight together in an impossible work of twine, but coincidences like this were stark, sudden knots among the discord. Lupin would be an even bigger fool, an even bigger _coward,_ if he backed down from an opportunity like this. 

“Zenigata…” The purr of his voice startled the inspector, who pried his hands free of his visage to stare at Lupin wide-eyed. Lupin had to keep his smile from blossoming into something wider, goofier, meaner. Never would he tire out of the rise he could so easily get out of him. 

The hotel room was small. It took one, two long, languid strides to cross the distance between the two of them. 

“Would I really go through all the trouble to track you down here, alone, if I was here to just humiliate you?” Maybe in some stroke of irony spinning a tall tale would illuminate the truth of the situation. He motioned to the room around them to highlight their immediate solitude. Zenigata’s doubt continued to fade, little by little, as he watched Lupin intensely. He didn’t move. Was he willing to hear him make his case? 

“Look–” he shrugged off his green blazer and proceeded to roll up the sleeves of his shirt “–not a single wire on me.” The clasp of his belt was undone and he slipped it free from the loops of his pants. “No cameras, either.” 

Zenigata’s jaw tensed in a way that set the pit of Lupin’s stomach on fire. His gaze flit impossibly fast between the thief’s face and his nubile hands as he haphazardly tossed the belt aside. The desire between them was palpable. Real. He _had_ him now. _Finally. Finally. Finally._

“Do you want to touch me?” 

Lupin held Zenigata’s gaze as steady as he could. It was hard; this close he could see how beautiful his eyes were. Deep brown, complex, mysterious. The inspector’s long lashes fluttered as he half-blinked and swallowed his nerves. 

“Yes,” he breathed. Slowly he unfurled himself, opened up to the possibility Lupin was presenting, and closed the final gap that remained between them. His hands moved to hover at Lupin’s waist. Lupin let them stay suspended in air; there was more he wanted before he’d grant him permission to let them rest. 

“Do you wanna fuck me?” His lips curled into a coquettish smile that parted to breathe his next words. “Do you want my body against yours, Inspector?” 

Zenigata’s breath was warm, tinged with bourbon and Shinsei tobacco, when it landed on Lupin’s skin. Despite his repeated hesitance, his answer was as resolute as before. “Yes.” 

That was the confirmation he needed. Lupin pressed Zenigata’s broad hands against his hips and slowly craned his head up to kiss him. It was chaste, exploratory; the rush of emotions from their previous encounter was absent. In its place was a palette of far more simple and subdued feelings. Bliss. Intrigue. Curiosity. 

Gradually, Lupin pulled away. Zenigata chased after him (when did he ever stop?), barely opening his eyes, in no rush to separate. The thief flashed him a grin as he led him to the bed. He pulled the inspector’s large form down on top of him– something he hoped would be another tell that gave away the sincerity of his intentions. 

Zenigata was quick on the uptake and leaned in close to kiss _Lupin_ for once. The thief let out a soft little moan and parted his lips. Somewhere in the back of his mind a vague memory was kicked up like dust. He’d been married before, hadn’t he? All of that practice was on display now; the way he knew to move his lips was impeccable. They were so warm… And just as soft as he remembered. Lupin trembled and sighed as he felt a flash of tongue–

Then everything was ripped away. 

Zenigata’s thighs suddenly squeezed his torso _tight_. Lupin’s eyes flew open as he wheezed. There wasn’t even any time to squirm. In one quick motion, the inspector pulled out his Colt right from behind Lupin. _The pillow, he’d had it under the pillow_ – Zenigata pressed the cold steel of the barrel to the theif’s forehead. All Lupin could do in turn was sputter. 

“Wh– What the h-hell–”

“Give it up, _Mine_! Thought you could pull the wool over my eyes, eh? Fat chance!” 

_Oh my God_. Just when he thought he already had them plenty wide Lupin widened his eyes even further. There was no way he was being serious. There was no fucking way.

“I-I–! I’m not Fujiko! Where did you even get an idea that stupid–” 

“Me, stupid?! _Ha!_ As if Lupin would ever come to _me_ looking for tail. Besides, seduction’s right out of _your_ playbook, _Mine_. I don’t know what you’re after, but I _do_ know that you’re going to be spending a long, miserable night in a jail cell after pulling a stunt like this.” 

He was being serious. As a heart attack. 

Lupin’s own heart started beating doubletime. When had Zenigata gotten so fast, anyway? Speed aside, staring down the barrel of a gun was as effective a mood killer if there ever was one. The only thing on his mind now was self-preservation. 

“Pops, get your head outta your ass!” Even under duress he couldn’t curb his irritation. “I’m _not_ Fujiko Mine– if you don’t believe me, why don’t you get a good look at my chest, huh?” Zenigata narrowed his eyes. He reached a hand down, hesitated, and when Lupin didn’t strike out in retaliation, loosed the knot of his tie and slowly undid the buttons of his black dress shirt. 

Lupin sucked in a sharp breath as Zenigata parted his shirt slowly. Even with the sudden shift in mood, it was still a move far more intimate than anything they’d ever done before; if there wasn’t a gun pointed to his head, the act would’ve been tender in how exploratory it was. He let out a long, shaky exhale and let his chest deflate. No costume trickery to be found. Just him. 

“Ah–” Realization seemed to hit Zenigata like a truck. Even in the dimness his immediate, intense blush was all too visible. Gun still in hand, he pressed both of his palms to his face to try and hide his embarrassment. “Oh, my God.” 

Under other circumstances, this would’ve been funny. Lupin felt like he should’ve been _howling_ with laughter at this point, caught up in the joy Zenigata’s humiliation always brought him. It _deserved_ to be funny. For having to go through all of this, Lupin had earned the right to laugh about it. But all he felt now was shame. 

Zenigata, finally, stood up, and Lupin rolled onto his side with a sigh. He heard the Colt get set aside on the nightstand. A few moments later what he assumed was the bathroom light switch was flipped. The inspector groaned as he splashed water into his face from the squeaky faucet. Lupin curled in on himself and trembled. 

Almost so quiet he didn’t hear, Zenigata broke the uneasy silence in a gentle timbre. “You awake?” Lupin rolled onto his back to show rather than tell the inspector that he was. Zenigata averted his gaze almost immediately. His lip trembled before he spoke again. “Move over.” He gestured with one of his bearish hands and Lupin complied. 

Stock still, they lay beside one another. Lupin folded his hands atop his belly and bored his gaze into the ceiling. He hadn’t thought of a contingency plan for this. Ridiculous, but true. If there was one thing he was known for, it was his plans. His intellect. His depth of understanding. But moments like this were shining examples of Zenigata’s true, unpredictable nature. 

It was why they made such good rivals, he supposed. They counterbalanced each other. Lupin sucked on his teeth before opening his mouth to speak. 

“Why did you think I was Fujiko?” he asked. “I thought it was pretty clear I was being serious.”

“You’re a thief, a liar, and a cheat. What reason would I have to think you were being serious?” The question cut through Lupin with more force than he was prepared for. Of course he knew Zenigata didn’t think terribly well of his character– if he did, they may not have been spinning in their restless dance –but to hear his opinion was even more sour than he assumed was seeding a multitude of other doubts. 

Nevertheless, he countered. “I thought you’d know me well enough to know I’m honest when it counts.”

“If you were honest when it counts, you’d be in jail.” Lupin went quiet. He supposed, to some degree, Zenigata was right. 

Several minutes passed with nothing said. Just outside the window the city was thrumming with life. Rancorous drunkards ambled about, belting out drinking songs in a litany of languages. Street food vendors catered to their whetted appetites, the mixed aroma of their wares perfuming the room. 

The din wasn’t enough to drown out the tumult of Lupin’s thoughts. Was there no version of these events that would’ve spared him some kind of loss of face? Was trying to build a long-lasting bridge between the two of them a fool’s errand? 

“I thought that… Things were different, after last time,” he said quietly. There was a soft, respectful hum of acknowledgement on Zenigata’s part. Lupin continued. 

“You felt it too, huh? I guess I wasn’t as coy as I thought.” He chuckled despite not having made a joke. “I don’t know what it is. There’s always been something drawing us together, but I never considered that it could be…”

“More than what it was?” Lupin turned to look at Zenigata head on and was stricken by the intensity of his expression. The poignant self-recognition he felt holding his gaze made his chest ache. He flashed his dry tongue across his lips before attempting to speak.

“H… How long–” 

“It doesn’t matter. But we can’t…” Zenigata shook his head. “We can’t do this, Lupin. We can’t.” He shut his eyes and shook his head again, brow wrinkled. 

Lupin had felt compassion for the inspector countless times, but this was perhaps one of the few he had felt raw empathy for him. He had concealed his desires so well and for so long that even now, with Lupin laying right beside him in his bed, he could not bring himself to act upon them. What had he done to him?

The thief rose from the bed with another weighty sigh. The mood had long, long been gone. There was no reason to force things. 

But this wasn’t a door closed. Simply another obstacle. Lupin would go back to what he did best and plan for the road that lay ahead. “There’s nothing I can’t do, Pops. You should know that by now, at least.” 

He could feel Zenigata’s eyes on him as he collected his belt and jacket from the filthy hotel floor. It hurt to leave him. Even if he planned better, even if things went smoothly the next time… Would it always feel like this when he left? Was this ache their red string, caught up around his neck?

He pulled the green blazer snug against his form and glanced back. He smiled, the expression all too joyless. “You know how to find me if you change your mind.”


End file.
